Benefactor
by Unidentified Pie
Summary: Yato was Kazuma's benefactor, and Kazuma wasn't one to leave a debt unpaid. So for years, he watched Yato, looking for an opportunity to repay him. He never found one, but he watched as Yato's first mask, his first defense, broke, and then watched some more as Yato created a new one. And in between, he saw Yato, real and so, so tired.


**A/N:**

**I'm very happy with how this story came out - it's short, but I think it's pretty good. No romance, only bromance - I don't do yaoi or shounen-ai or any sort of girl/girl or guy/guy pairings, sorry. Please review, so I can improve! **

**Benefactor**

Yato was his benefactor, the one who had saved Bishamonten's life and fulfilled his wish, even at the cost of the strongest god of war out for his life, and so Kazuma was forever indebted to the calamity god. And so for years, he kept an eye out for Yato, watching the god and hoping something would come along that would allow Kazuma to finally repay him.

There wouldn't be anything, of course, that could make up for saving his master's life, but Kazuma would try nonetheless.

He came across Yato, one day, about a year after Bishamonten had gotten over the loss of the "ma" clan, sprawled against a stone in the forest and taking deep, heavy breaths. They were in a clearing near a stream, which burbled softly as the cool water rushed over the mossy stones, and the canopy of the trees had blocked out the morning light, making the entire clearing dim, although streams of light still filtered through the branches.

"Yato-san?" Yato glanced up, and Kazuma saw that his face was strained with pain. But the boy's eyes were still hard and cold, defensive even then, and they glowed softly with a chilling light, like ice under blue light.

"Kazuma." he acknowledged, casting him a quick look before leaning his head back on the stone, breathing hard.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Blight. I'm gonna release the bastard as soon as I get back," Yato muttered, his hand clenching into a fist. His gi slid down a little, revealing a blotch of dark purple, like poison, on his shoulder and neck. Kazuma thought back to the battle Yato'd had with Bishamonten the previous day, and realised that the boy had indeed been unusually breathless and tired, his movements more sluggish than usual.

"It looks like it's already spread considerably far! Why didn't you release him earlier?" Yato murmured something unintelligible in response.

"What?"

"I thought I'd give the damn boy another chance! But stupid teenagers are always the hardest to deal with." He spoke with the experience of someone well used to the different shinkis, and Kazuma knew that the boy did have a lot of knowledge about them, seeing how many he'd already had. Kazuma went silent with shock, because this was another of the rare occasions when Yato allowed the tiniest bit of his kind side to show, trying to hold on the the shinki when most gods would have simply excommunicated them at the first sting.

"You've really been trying, huh?"

"Shut up. It was just a whim," Yato snapped, glaring at Kazuma as if Kazuma had done something wrong instead of praise him. They he sighed, shutting his eyes again. "It's not working out though. I don't think I can…" He trailed off, and Kazuma tried pressing him.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"It's _nothing_." Yato snarled, and Kazuma gave up - Yato was nothing if not stubborn, and the boy wouldn't allow anyone to pry anything he didn't want to talk about out of him.

"Can I ask you a question, then?" Yato eyed him warily.

"What?"

"Why did you never tell Bishamonten that I hired you? You could have spared yourself a lot of pain." He'd seen the deep slashes Bishamonten had carved in his stomach and shoulder - they wouldn't be healing any time soon - and the way Kuraha had mauled Yato's hand, which was now wrapped tightly in bandages. Yato eyed him again, then shut his eyes with a sigh.

"I cut frayed, broken bonds - I can see them, you know? Your bonds with Bishamonten." Kazuma blinked in surprise. So it was true. Yato really could cut through anything, even bonds. "They're not broken, not even the slightest bit frayed. They're stronger than ever. But don't you think, if I told her, it could fray and break the bonds? Bonds like yours are precious, so I want to try protecting something like that, just for once."

"Why?" Kazuma asked. Why hadn't Yato tried to protect his own bonds, why had he chosen to protect the bonds of a shinki and god he didn't really even know instead?

"Because I'm tired of breaking things," the boy replied, looking and sounding so terribly _weary_, his eyes so tired and pained and completely _exhausted_. And Kazuma didn't know what to say, to something that looked like a child, but spoke with all the wisdom and exhaustion of a tired, world-weary old man, to a boy that had eyes filled with such terrible, horrible understanding of the horror and terror and pain in the world, but little understanding of the things that are good and happy and kind. So he said nothing, except a thank you, and Yato cast those weary, worn out eyes on him once more, bright and blue, but the glow in them faded to a small, dying flame behind his irises.

"It's nothing," He said, a third time, and Kazuma wanted to tell him that it was not nothing, because didn't the boy know how much the bond with Bishamonten was worth to Kazuma? Didn't the boy understand that it was simply amazing to Kazuma, that he would suffer so much, just for their sake?

"It's not…" He had started saying that it was not nothing, that it did matter, to tell Yato how much this meant to him, but one more look at the exhausted, bone-tired eyes mode him stop; instead, he just nodded his thanks to Yato, and asked if the boy's wounds needed checking. The boy shook his head, the small tail he tied his hair in swinging, as he drew his knees up to his chest and put his uninjured arm over them, resting his chin on his arm. So Kazuma bowed deeply, and Yato gave the smallest dip of his head in return as Kazuma turned to exit the clearing.

"Oi, Kazuma." The boy's voice echoed once more, and Kazuma turned.

"What is it?" he asked, and Yato's shoulders slumped forward a little.

"I'm really tired," Yato said, and Kazuma nodded. It was evident that Yato was both physically and emotionally worn out - what surprised him was that the boy was telling this to him. "I'm not sure I can keep this up, so things may be… different when you next see me."

"Yato?" He stared at the boy uncomprehendingly, waiting for further explanation. He got none, though - Yato only gave an almost imperceptible nod as he dug his head even further into his arm, so that it covered most of his face. "Yato, what do you mean?"

"I've tried to become a delivery god, but things aren't working so well. It's because I'm too afraid, I think." Kazuma choked - afraid? Yato? The two words did not belong in the same sentence without a "not" or "never" between them. "I never let down my guard, and I think my clients suspect me of wanting to murder them." This was, unfortunately, very possible, and Kazuma had no trouble visualising it. "I'm going to try to fix things," Yato said simply, and Kazuma realised that everything must be weighing the god down - his utter and complete lack of believers, and his almost immediate loss of the ones he did have. His horrible luck with shinkis, who betrayed him at every turn, and his attempt to adapt to a new lifestyle of helping rather than killing people. Added to the new threat of the strongest god of war coming after his life, the burden was crushing. No wonder he looked so exhausted, tired down to his very bones - it was because he _was_. He couldn't set down his burdens, couldn't share them or even stop to rest, could only struggle alone, and Yato must've been so tired, so weary. It hurt, it physically hurt, because when one saw past the shields and defences, it was too obvious that Yato was so exhausted, so evident that he needed help.

"Yato." Icy eyes flickered to meet his, locking with them with an almost painful intensity, as if Yato could see right through him, into his heart and soul. No wonder Yato's clients were afraid of him - Yato's very eyes were weapons enough, even with without the god's terrifying combat skills. But right now, Kazuma saw that there was no spirit in his eyes - there never had been. It was as if the god was empty, except for the rare flashes of kindness and emotion that he displayed, as well as that terrible, ever-present exhaustion. There was no one else to help Yato - Kazuma was the only one there to even offer a scrap of support, and he did owe the god. He spoke a few words to Yato, and watched the god's eyes widen with surprise before Kazuma stood and gave him one last smile.

Kazuma left the clearing, hoping the god would remember his words - they were all he could give to Yato.

"Don't give up. There will be people who believe in you, one day, and a wonderful, unique person who will stand by you and never leave your side, no matter what you do."

* * *

><p>The next time they met, Yato had changed, completely and absolutely. At least, he had on the surface.<p>

His eyes were warm rather than cold, sky blue instead of ice blue.

He'd exchanged his gi for a black jersey.

He'd cut his hair, so that it was short and hung around his head.

But what amazed Kazuma was that he'd so effectively managed to create a whole new, nearly imperceptible defense in the span of a few years. Yato had changed his eyes from weapons into decorated shields, filling them with false warmth and laughter and joy, and made his actions more cheerful, less deadly. He joked and played around a lot more, and instead of threatening or scaring those who hurt or insulted him, he waved it off with a careless laugh and wide grin.

But Kazuma knew Yato, and he knew that this was not at all how Yato had been. Yato was not unaffected, and he was not as carefree as he would like others to think.

When Yato had said he wanted to fix things, and that things may be different, Kazuma hadn't been expecting _this_.

"Yato?"

"Oh! Hey, Kazuma!" Yet another difference - Yato didn't usually greet him that way.

"You've changed," He said bluntly.

"Yep! Say hello to the new and improved version of Yatogami!" Yato struck a pose and flashed him a wide grin and a wink, and Kazuma couldn't help but compare this new person to the boy Yato had been.

He wondered if Yato was happier this way.

They talked for a while, and Yato asked about Bishamonten, whom he had dubbed pervy-san (which made Kazuma's face twitch in ire). Still, it was nice of him to ask, considering that Bishamonten considered Yato her mortal enemy and Yato had spent the past couple of years trying not to be killed or maimed or crippled by her, and since Kazuma would always be indebted to Yato, he let it slide.

"She's fine."

"Still got a damn lot of shinki with her?"

"She's been gathering more, yes."

"The idiot. They're going to betray her, sooner or later."

"Bishamonten knows what she's doing. I won't… I won't allow a repeat of past mistakes," Kazuma said, springing to his master's defense. Yato sighed and rubbed his neck, his eyes taking on that weary, tired look that he'd had all those years ago, and Kazuma was reminded that Yato hadn't changed inside, not really. Only his mask was different.

"You can't stop the inevitable," Yato said.

"It is not inevitable."

"But it is. They will forever be spirits, human, Kazuma. And you cannot stop a human from feeling and hurting, especially the way Bishamonten hides her pain from them and vice versa. Eventually they'll snap."

"No! They wouldn't -"

"Kazuma." The voice was so serious and severe that Kazuma immediately flinched and looked up, eyes meeting Yato's blue, all too old ones. "You know it's the truth."

In front of Kazuma alone, Yato didn't bother to put on his childish, immature visage. Or perhaps, that conversation was serious enough that Yato was willing to drop the mask for a bit to make Kazuma listen. It struck Kazuma then, how un-childlike it was, and how starkly Yato's eyes and mannerism contrasted with the mask he seemed to favour those days.

"No. I won't let her be hurt or go through any more of those painful experiences again."

"You cannot change it," Yato reiterated, and Kazuma could not help but give in.

"I know. I know! But still I…" He didn't know what to do. Bishamonten was his master, and he, her shinki. He was bound to her and he had to go along with her insistence to take in any soul she saw, even if…

Even if it would hurt her in the end.

Yato nodded, understanding in his blue eyes.

"Talk to her. Maybe you'll get through her thick skull." And he turned to go, clapping Kazuma on his slumped shoulder.

"_Yato_." The young god turned to look at him. "It may be invasive of me, but perhaps the reason your shinki keep leaving is because you don't trust them."

"I know." The reply was calm, if a little downcast and resigned. "But how can I trust them?" Kazuma's head shot up, but Yato had turned and disappeared into the shadows before he could catch a glimpse of his benefactor's hard, sky blue eyes.

His question was answered.

Yato was no happier like that; he was still lonely, still unable to trust, still struggling through his life because even though he refused to die, living was just so hard for him.

And Kazuma wondered if Yato remembered those words he had given him as a parting, final gift, so many years ago.

**A/N:**

**Do you like it? Or do you think it's a menace to society and a disgrace to writers everywhere? (Shoot, I really hope it's not the latter, but still...)**

**Please review to tell me what you think!**

**God bless!**

**15/12/2014:**

**Edited with the help of asdf123150's reviews. Much thanks and I hope this is slightly better!**


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